Heartthrobs
by Dawnstorm101
Summary: Jim Kirk loves Carol Marcus - he has for almost two years now. There's just one problem: Starfleet fraternization regulations. He's not supposed to love a member of his crew. And she's not supposed to love her captain. So far, they haven't acted. But one away mission makes them reevaluate their priorities. Will they finally act, or die apart? Sort of sequel to Brothers.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, by "sort of sequel," I mean that you don't necessarily need to read Brothers to understand what's happening here, but there are characters within that were introduced in that fic, and new characters in this fic that wouldn't exist without them.

I'm trying a new style with this fic - hope it works. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Riverside, Iowa, Earth. Stardate 2284.102.**

"Your move, Captain."

Jim glanced at his adversary, then back to the decision at hand. He scanned it, examining every possible outcome. He focused, tuning out the cries of young children and adults alike, ignoring the weight of eyes watching for his next move. His reputation  
depended on what he did next. His whole future depended on it.

After a minute of intense evaluation, he moved his black knight.

Just like that, his opponent's Vulcan mask shattered into an expression of human ecstasy. "Yes!" Amanda cried. With lightning speed, fingers of sun-kissed bronze snatched up her white queen. "Checkmate," she announced triumphantly, setting the piece down  
with a _clink_ of finality.

"You beat me," Jim observed hollowly, staring at the 3D chess board for any possible escape. Regardless, he felt pride's warm glow welling through the cracks in his ego.

"Yes, yes I did," Amanda confirmed, grinning with all the brightness of a star. The sun turned her raven hair iridescent as she tucked it behind pointed ears. Then, unable to contain her excitement any longer, she jumped up from the patio table and ran  
into the yard, the skirt of her baby blue dress waving in a gentle breeze. "David, I finally won!"

"She's barely seventeen," Jim protested.

Carol, sitting on his right, patted his back consolingly. "She's the daughter of Spock and Nyota, Jim. She was blessed with human ingenuity and Vulcan logic; this moment was inevitable."

"But _seventeen_."

"And you're fifty-one, sweetheart."

"Are you calling me old and therefore mentally impaired? Cause one, we're the same age, and two, my brain works just fine."

"I dunno, Dad – you get hit in the head a lot," David chimed in, returning with Amanda to the site of Jim's humiliation.

Jim cast a mock-glare at his soon-to-be sixteen-year-old son. Blond curls framed a pale face, set off by electric blue eyes above a mischievous smirk.

"You and I will be having words, young man," Jim pretended to threaten.

David crossed his arms over his green shirt, not even pretending to be affected by his father's stern words. His black shorts were grass-stained from playing with Arthur, Henry, and Peter.

"At least have the dignity to be mildly apologetic about your shorts," Carol scolded.

"Come on, Mom, we were raised on a ship. You guys never mind when we get our clothes a little dirty."

"Stop using logic on your parents," Jim retorted. "And she's not just 'a ship,' she's the _Enterprise_."

"That is a highly illogical demand," Amanda pointed out.

"And you, stop sounding like your father. One part-Vulcan spouting endless logic is plenty for one crew."

"You mean family," Carol corrected, nodding at a sight in the yard.

Bones sat in a lawn chair, telling a story with animated gestures, commanding the rapt attention of Peter and Joanna. Peter, grass-stained like his cousin, sat in a chair as close to Joanna's as humanly possible, their hands connected. The elegance of  
Joanna's wavy chocolate hair, sharp hazel eyes, and delicate but powerful hands starkly contrasted with her stereotypical doctor's handwriting.

"You know what, Bones has the right idea."

Amanda and David glanced over at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" David asked.

Jim put on his best old man voice. "Gather round, young'uns, gather round." Still confused, likely wondering if Jim had finally lost his mind, the two teenagers settled on the opposite side of the table.

"It's story time, children. And I believe the appropriate punishment for your insolence is a love story."

-LLAP-

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise,**_ **orbiting P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

 _Captain's log, stardate 2260.311._

 _Today marks the 311th day of our five-year mission. The crew is beginning to show the strain of being away from home for so long, but they're performing admirably nonetheless. Today should, with any luck, provide some non-life-threatening interest, as we're currently orbiting an unexplored planet oh-so-creatively dubbed P3X-888. It's Class M, the fourth planet in its system, with a flourishing ecosystem, but no civilization. On average, it's about ten degrees cooler than Earth, but it seems ideal for colonization. Commander Spock, Doctors Marcus and McCoy, Ensigns Chekov and Carter, and I will be beaming down in five minutes to investigate further._

Jim jogged into the transporter room, holding up a hand to silence the six crewmembers staring at him. "Scotty wanted a word. Besides, I'm not even three minutes late, so stop looking at me like that."

Spock's eyebrow rose dubiously and Bones rolled his eyes, but it was Carol's little smile of amusement Jim noticed, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the sight of it. He stepped firmly onto the transporter pad, nodding at the lieutenant  
manning the transporter controls. "Energize."

For a moment, the captain was blinded as tendrils of white light wrapped around the landing party, and then a gorgeous landscape replaced the plain transporter room, accented by singing birds and buzzing insects.

In the distance was a single range of mountains in a closed loop around the valley, separating it from the world. They stood in a field of bright blue grass that extended all the way to the mountains, except to Jim's right. There sprouted a forest, its  
white-barked trees tall and thick, navy blue vines sweeping down in a style similar to Earth's weeping willows. The sky arched above them, a shimmering sunset orange, though the sun still rode high in the sky, and not a cloud in sight. A river wound  
through the field towards the forest, its water as orange as the sky.

"All right, everyone, fan out and do your thing," Jim ordered.

The two ensigns struck out for the forest's edge, Chekov instantly striking up a conversation with the tan-skinned, red-haired Lisa Carter.

"Work while you flirt, Chekov," he called after them. The eighteen-year-old activated his tricorder but didn't stop talking. Jim smiled, happy for his little brother, but the image morphed into Jim and Carol walking side-by-side, holding hands and chatting  
as if their duties didn't exist.

Jim shook his head sharply – that image could never become reality.

"Out of all the rules you could've picked to follow, you pick this one," a Georgian accent observed.

"Shut up, Bones," Jim muttered, glancing around to make sure Carol hadn't heard. She was by the river a hundred yards away, discussing some readings with Spock.

"Come on, kid, even Spock sees the way you look at her."

"I can't-"

"Jim, you haven't done more than meaningless flirting with other women since you met her. As your former roommate, I can attest to the significance of that."

"A captain isn't allowed to become romantically involved with a member of his crew," Jim pointed out, struggling to keep his voice emotionless.

Bones watched his face for a moment. "Fine. Have it your way. But remember that Pike was so devoted to his career that he's now in his fifties with no wife or kids. Even Chekov isn't that single-minded, and at his age that's perfectly fine, although he  
needs to act a bit more like a kid sometimes."

"I hope it works out. He really likes this one."

If Bones was irritated by the subject change – and he almost certainly was – he did a remarkable job of not showing it. "Yeah. But he's got a few good years left before he marries, I'd say."

"You married young, Bones."

"And look how that turned out."

"You make an excellent point, Bones."

"I always do."

Jim clapped Bones on the shoulder. "Let's do some science."

Bones started for the river. "I wanna check out that water. It's probably just the sky, but it could be some sort of chemical. Either way, it's fas- interesting. Orange water is interesting."

"You do that," Jim encouraged a retreating backside, smirking at the slip. The smirk faded as he awkwardly remained in place, longing to join his closest friends, but wary of starting a conversation with Carol right after Bones's advice. Luckily, a beeping  
communicator saved him from further awkwardness. "Kirk here," he answered, freeing it from his belt and flipping it open.

 _"Scott here, Cap'n. We've detected a ship, sir. She dropped out of warp, then retreated to the other side of the planet where we cannae get a visual."_

"What kind of ship, Scotty?"

 _"We cannae tell. Somethin' is confusin' her signal – one second she's Klingon, then Romulan, then-"_

"All right, I get it. Try hailing them, and see if you can get close enough to determine anything. And let's hope they're friendly."

 _"Aye, Cap'n. Scott out."_

Jim didn't put his communicator away as he pondered the next move. The ship had shown no unfriendly intentions – but nor had it shown friendly ones. If it did start showing unfriendly ones, the _Enterprise_ would be forced to raise shields, thus  
leaving the landing party stranded. And if the ship was unfriendly and knew the landing party was on the planet, odds were the six of them would hardly stand a chance against whatever forces were sent to capture or kill them.

So he reopened his communicator. "Ensigns, return to the beam-up site."

 _"Aye, Keptin."_

"Kirk to _Enterprise_."

 _"Sir, we haven't been able to-"_

"I figured, but just in case-"

"LISA!"

Jim whirled towards the accented scream, a sharp exclamation of terror and horror mingled with agony. "Chekov?" he yelled, already running for the trees – as were the other three. "Chekov!"

 _"Jim, wha' was tha'?"_ Scotty demanded.

The young Russian stumbled out of the trees, his eyes wide, his shirt bloodied, his left sleeve almost gone, replaced by two massive gashes along the length of his arm. In his right hand, he clutched a swath of red fabric.

Part of Ensign Carter's uniform.

Bones ran instantly to Chekov's side, holding his right arm bracingly as he ran a medical tricorder over him.

"I t-tried to s-sawe h-her," Chekov stammered.

Jim swallowed back his horror, raising his communicator to again. " _Enterprise_ , beam up Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov immediately."

"Let's get you patched up, Pavel," Bones murmured reassuringly as the transporter took the pair away.

 _"Jim, the ship jus' emerged – it's-"_

Three bloody figures emerged from the trees, snarling at the three Starfleet members.

 _Holy hell to the nope factor._

"I'm gonna guess Gorn?" Jim checked, backing up. He instinctively raised one arm to shield Carol as he stared up into the glittering compound eyes of an eight-foot-tall, Romulan-blood-green-scaled, bipedal reptile.

 _"Aye. How did ye-"_

"Three to beam up. Now."

Tendrils of light wrapped around the remaining trio, much too slowly, as they edged backwards from the furious reptiles.

And then, with a jolt that made Jim and Carol gasp, the effect ceased abruptly.

"Scotty-"

 _"I cannae do anythin', sir. They opened fire, and the transporter was damaged. We had to raise shields."_

Jim glanced to his left, and his heart sank upon seeing Carol still beside him.

"Is Spock onboard?"

 _"Aye, sir, he managed to rematerialize up here."_

"Good. Protect the ship at all costs – even if you have to leave orbit – and get us when you can. Kirk out."

Carol glanced at him, her exquisite eyes wide and terrified, but her voice was surprisingly calm as she inquired "What do we do now, Captain?"

Jim made eye contact with the center Gorn – easily a foot taller than the others, with massive muscles, and standing a step ahead of his companions, he was likely the leader of this little party. The claws on his right hand were soaked in blood.

"I, uh, I don't suppose-"

Opening his massive jaws wide, revealing a mouthful of bloody, incredibly sharp teeth in addition to his three-inch fangs, the leader Gorn roared.

"Run!" Jim yelled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Riverside, Iowa, Earth. Stardate 2284.102.**

"Wait, I thought this was a love story?" David interrupted.

"It is," Carol confirmed. "But seeing as your father is heavily involved, near-death situations are unavoidable."

Amanda's slanted eyebrow rose. "Indeed."

"What's all the hubbub?" Mom asked. Her hair had lost all traces of its original blonde, now mainly silver, streaked with snowy white. But as a great-grandmother, with her family whole and growing with no signs of another fracture, she had never been happier. "And, Jim, if anyone should be calling others 'young'uns,' it's me."

"Storytime is happening, Mother. So why don't you sit down and enjoy the show?"

Cautiously, she pulled up a chair beside her son. "Either I'll love it, or I'll have a heart attack because of what you went through…"

-LLAP-

 **Some forest, P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

Carol was just wondering which direction when Jim grabbed her hand, led her around the Gorn, and plunged into the forest. There, he released her hand, and they raced onward. He cleared the violet undergrowth with ease, running through it coming to him as easily as breathing. Carol, however, was more used to open spaces, and the thorns catching her legs were of no help. Still, Jim slowed to keep her ahead of him, constantly glancing over his shoulder.

Colors blurred together. The pain of the scratches spread to a stabbing ache in her leg muscles. Feet pounded the ground, blood rushed in her ears, her breath came in gasps. Her vision tunneled, focusing solely on the ground in front of her.

Suddenly, something grabbed her hand, nearly making her pumping heart leap out of her throat. She was yanked to the side, sandwiched between a wide tree and a warm body, a hand slapped over her mouth.

With her breath muted, she heard three pairs of footsteps thunder by the opposite side of the tree.

After about a minute, Jim dropped his hand. He met her eyes, a storm of emotion flickering in his own.

"Are you all right?" he murmured.

"Yes. Thank you," she breathed.

He stayed there, leaning against her, watching her face. She could read the temptation in his face, felt it in herself.

"Captain," she stated.

Abruptly, he jolted away, stumbling back a few steps as if he'd been electrified. "Sorry," he began hurriedly, dropping his gaze to the ground. "Sor-"

"Thank you," she cut him off. "I don't know if I could have run for much longer."

"Sorry if I scared you," he apologized. "I just saw the opportunity and-"

"Really, it's all right," Carol insisted.

Jim nodded, though his expression still shimmered with an unbearable mixture of pain and longing.

Carol understood that mixture perfectly. She had never considered herself a romantic, but something about Jim Kirk made her want to smile and giggle like a schoolgirl. Maybe it was his blinding blue eyes, or the way he was simultaneously a bad boy and knight in shining armor, or one of a billion other things she'd noticed about him since introducing herself on the shuttle two years ago.

But he was her captain. She couldn't keep looking at him like that. She had to suppress the butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her. She had to pretend she was interested in the men Nyota set her up with, even if they both knew who her heart throbbed for. Because maybe there was a slight chance of a suitable substitute lurking in the shadows, waiting to be discovered.

But she knew there was no other Jim Kirk. The only person who could possibly hope to be even half the man he was, was his son.

A son she would never be able to mother.

She could transfer. If he wasn't her captain, there were no rules saying no. But being apart from him for so long, the last to get the news of away missions gone wrong, and to be utterly unable to help him… That was an equally undesirable option.

 _Damned if we do, damned if we don't._

Jim cleared his throat. "We need to get far away from here."

"Logical," Carol said.

 _Why does this command crew always turn into Spock when unwanted emotions come up? One iota of emotion, and suddenly we're saying logical and fascinating…_

"Where's the river?" Jim asked.

Carol turned on her tricorder. "About a hundred yards that way," she answered, pointing over her shoulder.

"And where are they?"

"Still running the same way. I don't think they've realized we lost them."

"Good," Jim murmured, drawing the word out.

"You don't sound like that's good," Carol pointed out.

"Something seems… off."

Carol tilted her head a bit, watching his eyes narrow as he scanned the area they'd run through. They had only encountered the Gorn once before, so even Jim wouldn't know much about the species, but he had a powerful gut instinct. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "Not now. Weird or not, they still want to kill us, so we've gotta move. River's that way, you said?"

She nodded, and he set off.

"Why the river?" she asked.

"If it's wide enough, they might not expect us to cross it, so they'll waste time searching this side of the river."

"And you know this how?"

"Um… An away mission of sorts," he mumbled in reply. "Doesn't matter," he plowed on. "It's worked before, it'll work again. Look, the river."

Jim's avoidance of the topic was a far cry from subtle, but Carol let it go – they did have more pressing matters to focus on. For example, trying to cross a river that appeared to be about nine feet across.

"Well, at least I can tell Bones the coloring is just a reflection," Jim observed.

"How exactly are we supposed to cross that?" Carol asked drily, noting the rushing current. "Is that even wide enough to deter them?"

"If they underestimate the jumping ability of humans, yeah."

"The what ability?" Carol demanded. "Captain, that's almost twice my height."

"Nah," he corrected, backing up. "It's almost two feet shorter than that, isn't it? You'll be fine."

"Captain-"

But he was already sprinting towards the water. At the very edge of solid ground, he pushed off with a grunt of effort. For a moment, he almost seemed suspended in midair, the water below ready to suck him away. Then he landed on the other side, wobbling slightly, but firmly on the ground.

"See? Nothing to it," he called.

Carol sighed. "For you, maybe."

"Just get a good running start. If you miss, I'm right here. I promise."

 _One day, Jim Kirk, I'll make_ you _do something crazy._

She backed up a good sixty feet from the edge. Took a few deep breaths. Then burst into a dead sprint, using those sky blue eyes as magnets.

For a moment, she flew.

Then her right foot smacked into the mud at the river's edge, while her left splashed down into the water. With a sickening lurch, she started falling backwards, the current tugging greedily at the appendage already submerged. She snatched for a trailing vine, but it snapped in her grip, leaving her free to tumble.

Until Jim grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her to dry ground.

"Next time," Carol panted. "I save you."

"Deal. You good?"

Carol gently freed her hand from his and leaned back against a tree to dump water from her boot. She couldn't tell if ending the contact slowed or sped up her heartbeat. "I'm fine."

Jim nodded, awkwardly tucking his hand behind his back. Wordlessly, he shifted his attention to hiding the footprints they'd left. She put far too much focus on putting her boot back on, forcing herself to ignore the pain they had to put each other through.

Instead, she pulled out her communicator. "Marcus to _Enterprise_. _Enterprise_ , do you read?"

"They must've fled," Jim surmised when there was no response. "Or…" he began, trailing off and staring through the canopy as if he could see his ship up there.

"They're fine," Carol stated with as much certainty as she could muster. "We've all survived worse."

"Not all of us," Jim murmured, tearing his gaze from the sky to look in the direction of Pavel's scream. Grief washed over her, remembering the young, bright-eyed ensign with her whole life ahead of her. For a moment, she wondered how Pavel was, but shook the thought away – there would be time for that later.

"Jim, we have to go," Carol urged him, gentle but firm. The loss of any crewmember shook the young captain, especially one so young.

He blinked, as if mentally shaking himself, and turned back to her, though his eyes never really met hers. "Let's head for the mountains. We won't get there until tomorrow at the earliest, but if the _Enterprise_ doesn't get us before then, there'll likely be caves we can shelter in."

Jim brushed past her, unholstering his phaser and holding it tight, like a lifeline. Carol sighed quietly and followed a few steps behind, being all too familiar with this side of Jim.

One would think that two adults would be able to handle their emotions while together, but there was always some point in their longer interactions where their ability to do so fell apart. This moment was normally followed by someone – normally Jim – beating a hasty retreat so they both could regroup and be professional. Obviously, this was not currently an option.

And it hurt more than the abrupt departures. Because she had to let her heart bleed in the company of the very man it bled for, knowing there wasn't a single thing either of them could do about it and remain together, their fragile places in the universe still intact. Not for the first time, she cursed Starfleet fraternization regulations.

But this was certainly the hardest she'd ever cursed.

-LLAP-

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise,**_ **fleeing P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

His hands barely cleaned of Chekov's blood, Leonard staggered to the bridge. Every few seconds, the ship would lurch, slamming him against the wall, the lights flickering around him, and he really should've stayed in the medbay with his nausea hypos, but still he stumbled onto the bridge because he _needed to know,_ because his gut instinct was screaming at him that something was very, very wrong.

 _No._

There was no blond, gold-shirted human sitting in the captain's chair, firing off orders with a voice simultaneously calm and brimming with emotion.

There was a pale, blue-shirted Vulcan sitting in the captain's chair, firing off orders with a voice edged by logic and devoid of emotion.

Somehow, Leonard crossed the bridge, grabbing the back of the chair in a white-knuckled grip. "Where's Jim?" he rasped, not really expecting an answer.

And he didn't get one – verbally, anyway. Spock glanced around, and the guilt that briefly flashed in his human eyes was the only answer the doctor needed.

Sulu's hands flew over his station, racing to maneuver the ship to safety, looking oddly out of place without Chekov on his right.

 _Destroy them,_ he found himself urging silently, despite his status as a saver of lives, his mind too full of his friends, his family, covered in blood and tears. Southern hospitality could only stretch so far, and he was about as far from Georgia as he could get.

 _Destroy them for making me patch you up one too many times._

 _Then let's get our soul back._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Whoo, didn't think I'd finish this for a few days yet. But my muse was with me in the wee hours of the morning, so here you go!

* * *

 **Riverside, Iowa, Earth. Stardate 2284.102.**

"Bones, _we're_ telling _our_ story," Jim complained.

The doctor's sharp tongue hadn't dulled since their first meeting over a quarter of a century ago. "And when you tell your story of glamor and romance, just where does that leave your friendly neighborhood doctor? Oh, that's right, stuck on the ship _again_ , struggling not to have a heart attack wondering what injuries he'll have to patch up this time."

"I don't do it on purpose," Jim protested.

"No," Joanna agreed in the same accent as her father, "but it's still darn stressful for us doctors."

"You handle it admirably," Peter praised, his glowing gaze focus on Joanna.

"Propose already, you plonker," David muttered.

Jim picked a grape off the plate of food Mom had gotten and threw it at his son. Seeing the gesture, Bones instinctively glanced around for Sulu, remembering an incident from many years ago that the Asian pilot had lorded over him, Jim, Spock, and Chekov ever since.

"He'll propose when he's ready."

"It's been years."

"And waiting works for some couples," Uhura chimed in, striding up to the patio beside Spock. Grey sliced through her dark hair in elegant stripes, but her only wrinkles came from too much smiling. Spock had aged just as well, though with a Vulcan's lifespan, he had an edge over his human companions. But with every passing year, that knowledge weighed on him more and more, and he treasured each moment with a special intensity, even if he acted entirely Vulcan while doing so.

"Some couples," Amanda confirmed, casting a sidelong glance at David, who just sipped his drink. The movement and its evident intent, however, were not lost on Spock, whose eyebrow rose as he narrowed his eyes slightly at David. Jim chucked a grape at him too, because how dare Spock question David's worthiness of Amanda.

"Jim, stop throwing grapes and return to your story," Mom ordered.

"All right, all right. Now, where were we…"

-LLAP-

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise,**_ **fleeing P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

Spock gripped his armrests tightly as the _Enterprise_ lurched forward, the target of yet another torpedo. The lights winked out for several moments before hesitantly flickering back to life. He glanced at the ceiling, at the dangerously sparking stations, at the green-faced doctor behind him.

"Shields at twenty percent!" Lieutenant Sulu yelled.

"Evasive maneuver delta seven," Spock commanded, studying the ship in their viewscreen. Despite firing photon torpedoes and phasers at it, the ship hardly looked damaged. "How much damage have we caused?"

"Minimal damage only, sir," the Science Officer 0718 reported in his metallic voice.

Another blow rocked the ship, with the doctor barely remaining on his feet.

"Casualty reports coming in from all decks," Nyota reported. "No fatalities yet."

 _Yet._ If the battle continued, that would most certainly change.

"Mr. Sulu, can we warp?"

"No, sir. Warp engines were one of the first things they targeted. We do have impulse, though."

"Impulse will not allow us to escape," Spock observed, half to himself.

"Sitting here won't help either," McCoy grunted.

Spock ran through a list of options in his head. It was a short list, and nothing would work permanently, but…

"This solar system has an asteroid belt, does it not?" he inquired to the bridge in general. The asteroids would theoretically provide some level of protection from the enemy ship, perhaps just long enough for the crew to regroup and determine a way to both defeat the other and rescue Jim and Doctor Marcus.

"Yes, Commander," another science officer reported from Spock's normal station.

"Is it near enough to reach on impulse?"

She checked her scans. "Yes, sir."

"Mr. Sulu-"

"Already on it, Commander."

The ship lurched again, but this time with the force of the pilot's sharp turn. The seconds crawled by as the ship fled, and Spock was certain his human crewmates were praying they would reach the asteroid belt's security in time.

-LLAP-

 **Some forest, P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

"What the hell is that noise?" Jim muttered.

Carol stopped behind him, blinking as if coming out of deep thought. She checked her tricorder.

"Some sort of lifeform. Not a Gorn, though. And it's alone."

"Reassuring. What kind of lifeform?"

She squinted at the readings. "It looks like a… horse?"

Jim crept through the undergrowth. "What is a horse doing this far from Earth?"

"Some sort of parallel evolution?" she suggested.

"On two different planets? Weird."

But as he passed by a rather large rock, he stopped. "Well, I'll be damned."

A pond sat in a shaded clearing. Drinking calmly from the opposite side of the sparkling orange water was a massive, deep purple horse-like animal. With one notable difference – a foot-long horn protruding from its forehead.

"It's a unicorn," Carol whispered in awe. Her eyes sparkled with adorable girlish joy. Jim watched her face for a moment, grinning softly at her happiness.

The unicorn's ears flicked forward towards their voices. Slowly, it lifted its head and locked blood red eyes on them. It breathed deeply, its nostrils flaring.

"Ok, that's creepy. Maybe we should-"

But as soon as Jim backed up a step, it let out a bloodcurdling scream, revealing a mouthful of jagged-edged teeth. It reared up, pawing the air, and at the end of its legs there were indeed hooves, but ones tipped by a trio of terrifying claws.

"Bloody hell."

"Run!" Jim yelled yet again. Carol scrambled to obey, racing back around the rock.

The unicorn unleashed another scream and leapt across the pond in a single effortless bound, pounding remorselessly after them.

"Jim, if this is anything like Earth horses, we can't outrun it," Carol advised over her shoulder, running just in front of him.

"What am I gonna do, shoot a unicorn? Girls everywhere will hate me."

"I don't see any other options, you plonker!"

"Fine. But if I never get a date again, I'm blaming you."

 _And it will be your fault, because you're just too damn perfect for me to move on._

Jim whirled around, whipping his phaser up.

Only to have it ripped from his hands.

"Aw, crap, it knows how to use its mouth."

The unicorn reared up, a mountain of enraged muscle and sharp points. Jim stumbled backwards to avoid its flailing claws, but one still caught the arm he threw in front of his face, slicing straight through the fabric to the skin and muscle beneath. Fiery agony exploded in his limb and everything blanked out for a moment, and suddenly he was on the ground, with the unicorn's horn descending straight towards him. He fought to roll away, scramble to his feet, get away, but a vine snaked around his ankle and the damn thing wouldn't come off, he was gonna die here in this stupidly purple forest without ever-

Suddenly, the unicorn froze. Its eyes widened in confusion, and then it started freaking the freak out. It reared and bucked and twisted and threw its head back, trying to stab-

Carol. Who clung to its back like a professional bull rider.

She kicked its sides viciously, and the thing sprinted a few steps in an effort to dislodge her. She swung off its back in one smooth motion, whipping her phaser from its holster and firing a stunning blast at it, catching it right in the jaw. It collapsed, the ground shaking under the weight of it.

Jim gaped at her. "What the… How the…"

All of the ferocity vanished from her face as she jogged back to the injured captain. Working quickly, she holstered her phaser and freed his ankle, using the vine as a makeshift tourniquet. He gasped as she tightened it, clamping onto the nearest thing to keep himself conscious, not realizing it was her knee. She gave him no time to recover, hauling him upright and turning him back towards the mountains.

"I told you I'd be the one doing the saving, Captain Damsel," she tried to tease, but even mildly disoriented as he was, Jim could tell her heart wasn't in it. "Come on, we have to get away from the unicorn before that tourniquet is on for too long."

"Never thought I'd hear that sentence," Jim grunted, clutching his arm to his stomach and stumbled after her. "Or that nickname."

"It's fitting, don't you think?" she asked, pausing to pull his uninjured left arm over her shoulders. Glancing down at his wound, he vaguely realized _Damn, that's a lot of blood._

"Sure," he agreed. "The damsels love me."

Carol looked like she would've smacked him if he weren't injured.

"You asked," Jim mumbled.

Carol fumbled one-handed with her tricorder, the other arm wrapped around Jim's waist. Some part of him registered that he should be enjoying the contact, but his arm _hurt_.

"Just focus on walking, Jim," she encouraged, and he realized he was barely moving. He redirected his energy to putting one foot in front of the other.

"You need to rest," she murmured. "It'll be dark soon anyway. There's a stream not too far from here."

"But it was midday," Jim protested.

"Evidently, the sun sets fast around here."

"Are you lying to make me feel better about having to stop?"

"Just walk, Jim."

He let the argument drop as he nearly tripped over flat ground. She steadied him, guiding him onward. After a few minutes, they found the aforementioned stream, and she eased him to the ground in the shelter of a thick patch of bushes. Carefully, she began tending to his wound, beginning with sticking his arm in the water to clean it. He clamped his jaw shut against a whimper, his breath hissing out through his teeth.

"Think of something else," she advised.

"Like what? The fate of my ship?" he retorted, more harshly than he meant to.

She thought for a moment. "My dad," she finally said.

"What?"

"You asked how I did that. Even back then, he was a busy man, and our best quality time was when we would go horseback riding through the English countryside. At first I would share his saddle, but as I grew older he taught me how to ride, and by the time I was a teenager we were racing each other through the open fields. Every week, without fail, we would go on at least one ride. If he was offworld or one of us was sick, the other would bring a camera along and we would vidchat. Everything I know about horses, I learned from my dad."

She went quiet, focusing too hard on his arm. Jim absorbed the story, knowing how much it hurt her to think of Admiral Marcus. He had gone rogue and nearly killed the entire crew, but he was still her father, and she missed him desperately, wishing she could defend him from the cries of traitor.

"I don't hate him, you know," Jim said quietly.

Carol paused in her work, looking at him with guarded hope in her eyes. "You… don't?"

He shook his head. "I know I should, but he was trying to protect people. Protect you. And I understand that. I understand it perfectly."

She smiled at him, weak and watery, but a smile nonetheless.

"Plus, he made you, and where would I be without you?"

She chuckled. Then, hesitantly, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Thank you, Captain Damsel," she murmured.

Jim smiled. "Any time."

 _If only this moment could last._


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yay, this is the longest chapter yet! And just a warning: I may be alternating one chapter of this with one Beyond one-shot for a little while, and school starts again next week, so updates may slow down.

I saw Pete's Dragon on Sunday - I highly recommend it. It was classic Disney, beautiful in every way, but bring tissues if you go see it. Karl Urban's acting was great, as per usual, though I didn't like his character's actions, but he had a nice arc  
and if there's a sequel, they could do great things with him. And it did give me a funny scenario to imagine Bones in, which I did slip in here as a non-spoilerific reference to the movie. Good luck finding it! (It's not hard. At all. If you at least  
knew that Karl was in the movie, you'd know exactly what I was referencing without me even telling you.)

So anyway, without further ado, I present to you chapter four!

* * *

 **Riverside, Iowa, Earth. Stardate 2284.102.**

"I still don't believe you," Bones muttered.

Jim rolled his eyes. "It's been twenty-four years, Bones. How much longer until you're convinced that neither Carol nor I hallucinated the killunicorn?"

"I still think it was some sort of hallucinogen you two inhaled."

"You examined us for evidence of such a compound. Quite thoroughly, I might add," Carol pointed out. "And you found nothing."

"It must've run through your systems quickly, then," Bones retorted. "I just don't believe a carnivorous unicorn could possibly exist."

"Says the guy who got sneezed on by a furry dragon," Jim shot back.

Bones tried his hardest to glare daggers at the captain, but his tiny, wistful smile as he remembered the dragon that had saved his life ruined the effort.

"Wait a second. No one else is gonna deal with the fact that Dad just said 'killunicorn'?" David cut in.

"It was your mother's idea," Jim told his son.

As David began to ask his mother what in the world had possibly influenced her to come up with such a name, Jim glanced at the yard, where three more adults sat in the grass, watching over the four young children. Like his twin, Henry had grown into a  
fine young man, though he was quieter and content to tinker with starship engines rather than work his way into the captain's chair. On his left, his younger sister Jane was all smiles as she cradled Darcy, the half-Klingon, half-human infant the  
young doctor had rescued from a disaster site and promptly adopted, the only one from either species willing to take in the young orphan. On Henry's right sat Demora Sulu, her luxurious black hair pulled back in a ponytail, as content as her soon-to-be  
sister-in-law as she leaned against Henry and watched her eight-year-old son, Arthur, the only good thing to come out of her brief but abusive first marriage. He was helping Jim's twin five-year-old daughters, Emma and Sierra, build a mud castle,  
his predominately Asian features but white skin covered in mud. Emma and Sierra were equally filthy – their platinum blonde hair would need a good wash tonight. Jim smiled anyway, irresistibly reminded of Carol's disarray when she was absorbed in  
an experiment.

"Maybe we should move this to the yard before our surprises become entirely caked in mud," Jim suggested.

Carol followed his gaze and sighed. David just laughed and got up, probably to help his sisters finish their castle, closely followed by Amanda, who pulled on a Vulcan mask of expressionlessness to avoid the conflict between a child's laughter and an  
adult's sense of responsibility. Despite Jim's warning grape earlier, Spock's eyes still narrowed slightly as he monitored her proximity to David. But he said nothing, instead settling beside Jane and requesting to hold Darcy. The others followed  
suit, with Mom, Bones, and Jim taking the three lawn chairs. Sierra abandoned her friend and siblings to sit on Jim's lap, and once she was settled, Carol picked up where they'd left off.

-LLAP-

 **Some forest, P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

Carol looked down at Jim, huddled in a ball, his arm tucked against his stomach. After she bandaged it with strips of cloth from his other sleeve, they'd debated whether or not it was safe for him to sleep, eventually agreeing that an hour-long nap would  
help his body replenish his blood supply a little faster. That hour was almost up, and Carol found she was reluctant to disturb him. Everything was peaceful; they were at peace. They were unconcerned with suppressing their feelings, and for once,  
Jim was unconcerned with survival. She had never seen him as carefree as he was now.

But alas, peace never lasted when one was a member of Jim Kirk's crew.

"Jim, time to wake up," she said, nudging his shoulder.

He shifted, but only to bury his face in the crook of his elbow. "Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"No," she stated, hooking a hand around his arm to help him up. He sighed but cooperated, blinking in an effort to wake up. "Mountains?" she prompted, remembering perfectly but wanting to make sure he did.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "And my brain is working perfectly."

Carol crossed the stream to where the undergrowth was less dense before turning to follow it. "I wouldn't say perfectly."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine. My brain is working normally. For me."

"That's much better."

His only response was noncommittal grunt, and she looked back to see that he was still weak enough to have to watch the ground in front of him to keep himself from falling. She paused to let him catch up, taking hold of his uninjured arm to steady him.  
He leaned a little weight against her. "Stupid unicorn," he muttered.

"I'm the one who told you to turn and fight," Carol pointed out guiltily.

Jim was shaking his head before she even finished. "I would have done it anyway. And if I hadn't, it just would've stabbed me in the back. Yes, there is a deep, very painful gash in my arm, but if you hadn't made me turn around, it would've been a lot  
worse. So thank you for telling me to turn and fight."

Carol still felt guilty, but she tried to be lighthearted anyway. "Weird way to save someone."

"Well, Sulu saved the whole ship from Nero by forgetting to disengage the external inertial dampeners. We tease him endlessly for that, but if he hadn't, things would have gone so much worse for us and Earth."

Carol laughed. "Well, I don't know if he made my life better or more complicated."

Jim flashed a beaming grin at her. "Better, obviously. I pity the poor souls who haven't been blessed by my presence."

"I'm certain Leonard would disagree wholeheartedly."

"Oh, please, he'd be lost without me."

"And you'd be dead a million times over without him, Captain Damsel."

"I am _not_ a damsel."

Carol arched her eyebrow. "Oh, really? How many times have you needed someone else to save your life?"

"More than you want to know," Jim replied quietly, suddenly serious. His gaze had gone distant; he didn't look like he saw the forest of P3X-888, but rather somewhere much less colorful. It was a look the command crew was familiar with, in his less guarded  
moments. His life before Starfleet weighed on him, something heavier than his father's sacrifice, something he was very tight-lipped about. She did want to know, but it was her policy to never pry. So she just changed the subject.

"Earlier, you said something was off. What?"

He blinked, refocusing. "The Gorn I fought was almost comically slow, but those guys were almost as fast as us. He was also certainly reptilian, but he didn't have scales. He didn't have fangs, either."

"So they look Gorn but they're not Gorn?"

"I think so. Maybe some sort of offshoot, like Romulans and Vulcans."

Carol nodded. "Does that help us at all?"

"I don't know yet."

They lapsed into silence. Jim was struggling more than he'd probably like, but he managed for a few hours. At least, he did until a small, furry black creature suddenly darted right in front of them. Carol froze, easily keeping her footing, but Jim's  
injured arm shot out to the nearest tree for balance. "Ow," he squeaked, the color he'd regained draining from his face in an instant.

And then it started raining fuzzballs.

Carol quickly jumped forward, and once she was away from the tree, she was in the clear. But when she turned around, Jim had disappeared. In his place was a massive pile of trilling fuzzballs.

"Jim?" she called, concerned.

In a wave, the fuzzballs transformed from a dull white to several different colors – a layer of dark blond on top, then a few layers of white skin tone with a couple bright blue fuzzballs, and many layers of command gold, and more of black. Carol tilted  
her head, admiring this effect, when the pile started moving, the colors rippling as it did so, and from the top emerged… Jim, spluttering with annoyance and spitting out fuzz, his face cadet-uniform-red. A couple fuzzballs changed to match the angry  
color.

Carol burst out laughing. "You… are the only… man alive… who looks annoyed… in a pile of fuzzballs… who are imitating you," she panted.

"I'm annoyed because they always rain down on my head by the dozens!" Jim snapped. As if to emphasize his statement, a couple more bounced off his head. He batted them away, gentle but trying to hide it, and started trying to dig his way out one-handed.  
"Would you help me out here?"

"As you wish, Captain Damsel," Carol agreed, still laughing. He tried to glare at her, but he had never quite been able to pull off the look while she was laughing.

"Thank you," he grunted reluctantly as he stepped out. Carol plucked one off his shoulder, letting out a little "Ooo" when it shifted to match her skin tone, trilling happily all the while. It unfolded a tiny pair of wings and fluttered back to the pile,  
which began to migrate back to the treetop. Intrigued, Carol aimed her tricorder at them.

"Jim, I think these are winged, camouflaging tribbles."

He glanced at the flying fuzzballs and backed up a step, eyeing the treetops warily. "They probably nest up there to avoid the unicorns," he surmised. "I am never touching another tree on this stupid planet."

Her laughter renewed, Carol started to turn back the way they'd been heading, but noticed something behind Jim. "Hey, fruit!"

His eyes lighting up, he spun around. She brushed past him to pick a single pink, pear-shaped fruit growing in the middle of a clearing.

"Er, Carol, I'm not sure it's-"

As she touched the fruit, five giant leaves sprang from the ground and sealed shut around her.

"-safe. Carol?!"

-LLAP-

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise,**_ **asteroid belt of solar system P3X. Stardate 2260.311.**

Leonard stumbled out of one last surgery, barely remembering to take off his gloves before scrubbing a hand over his face. It had only been four hours since the initial attack, and he'd certainly worked far longer shifts, but the ship had taken severe  
hits, resulting in a flood of severe injuries that sent him from one surgery to another, staying just long enough to patch up the critical damage before racing to the next crewmember. All the while, one person buzzed in the back of his mind: Jim.

All the while, he kept imagining Jim broken and bleeding. Or, worse, crying like he'd never cried before, clutching Carol's broken body. He could fix physical injuries, and he could, after many years, recover from losing Jim, but watching Jim struggle  
on after losing Carol… He couldn't do that.

He already had to do it with Chekov.

Even though all he really wanted to do was get back to the bridge, he made his way through the medbay, checking vitals, inspecting injuries, administering medication, even sending a few of the luckiest to rest in their quarters instead. He saved Chekov  
for last, ensuring the young ensign was still fast asleep, hoping he would stay that way until Sulu was free to sit with him. Then, after trading his scrubs for a normal uniform, he went straight to the bridge, not even pausing for a cup of coffee.

No station sat abandoned, but some were only glanced at every few seconds, their attending crewmember turned around to add to an ongoing discussion about potential tactics. Sulu's attention was focused solely on navigating around the asteroids, using  
the cleverest path he could manage, his maneuvering resulting in some unpleasant jolting. It was a far cry from being hit by a torpedo, but it was an unsettling reminder that they were still running, getting farther from Jim and Carol by the moment.

"When will warp drive be repaired?" Spock inquired.

Scotty answered over the comm. _"We're stretched thin down 'ere, and her engines were hit pretty hard – maybe a day, a' least."_

"We may not have a day, Mr. Scott."

 _"D'ye think I dinnae know tha'? I'm doin' the bes' I can, bu' we've go' a lo' of near-hull breaches and the shields takin' priority, an' some plasma fires injured some of my engineers. Some of 'em came back from medbay, bu' we're understaffed."_

"Wait, who came back? I didn't send anyone back to work," Leonard protested.

 _"Relax, Doc, they're jus' a bi' banged up, no broken bones or nothin'."_

"If they are indeed understaffed in Engineering, Doctor, then we cannot afford to be too picky regardless," Spock pointed out. "If they can do sufficient work without further endangering their health, then work they shall. Mr. Scott, please repair the  
warp engines as soon as possible. I will send some available crewmembers to assist you. Spock out."

"Wait, if we can't warp for another day-"

Spock silenced him with a hard Vulcan stare. "I am well aware of the captain's circumstances, Doctor. However, we will do him no good if the Gorn destroy the _Enterprise_. If you have any suggestions as to how to disable them so that we may return  
to the planet, I am willing to listen."

"Damn it man, I'm a doctor, not a tactician," Leonard retorted.

Spock didn't rise to the bait, not even raising a pointed eyebrow, and simply turned to a white-skinned young man with dark, messy hair. "Ensign Reid, assemble a list of personnel with engineering expertise and send any available to aid Mr. Scott."

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged, picking his PADD up.

Leonard crossed his arms, utterly despising his helplessness. "Pretending you're talking to a five-year-old, how do we compare to them?"

"They are more maneuverable, and our weapons do hardly any damage. Currently, our only advantage is that the _Enterprise_ 's smaller size is allowing us to navigate more easily through the asteroid belt, and in places they cannot follow."

"If you ever have kids, Spock, someone needs to talk to you about how to talk to them."

"You forget, Doctor, that my children will be part Vulcan. Their IQs will likely match yours by the time they are ten, at least."

The entire bridge crew turned to observe the aftermath of the comment, momentarily amused. Someone whispered "The captain will be so mad when he hears about missing this." Leonard glared at the Vulcan; the corner of the hobgoblin's mouth twitched upwards  
into a triumphant smirk. When Leonard glanced at her, Uhura just shrugged, doing a bad job of hiding a smirk of her own.

"Green-blooded hobgoblin."

Poorly concealed laughter erupted around the bridge. Spock settled back in the captain's chair, glancing at the laughing crew with satisfaction in his gaze. Leonard allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the lightened mood before he returned to the matter  
at hand.

"So, we're basically David up against Goliath?"

Spock's head shot up, an idea surging to life in his eyes. He abruptly vacated the chair, heading to his usual station and checking something.

"What is it?" Uhura asked.

"Doctor, I believe your incessant use of metaphors may have finally become useful."

"Did you just insult me while thanking me?"

"Yes," Ensign Reid confirmed. "Yes he did."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm so sorry about that wait! My muse abandoned me. It's back now, so here's chapter 5!

* * *

 **Riverside, Iowa, Earth. Stardate 2284.102.**

"You two will be still be sassing each other from the grave," Amanda commented.

"Yes we will," Bones agreed proudly.

Spock furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but Amanda held up a hand to stop him. In a moment, she had her father's expression copied exactly; her voice was just as perfect. "That is a highly illogical statement."

The humans burst out laughing, especially upon viewing Spock's mildly affronted expression. "You should be an actress, Amanda," Uhura managed between laughs.

"Heck no. I'm going to be the first officer to David's captain. Right, David?" she asked pointedly, brushing her hand against his as she reached for her drink.

"Yup," he confirmed, completely oblivious to the contact. "It'll be just like old times – a Kirk in the captain's chair, a Vulcan/human hybrid at his side."

Jim tried not to make his sigh too obvious. _How did_ I _raise a boy who couldn't recognize flirting if it smacked him in the face with a starship?_

Arthur crawled away from the mud castle to flop down between Henry and his mother. "When's Cyril gonna get here?" he asked.

Emma perked up. "Auntie Jaywah!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Joanna smiled at the little girl, extending her arms for her to crawl into. "Cyril, Jaylah, and Pavel should be leaving Russia soon."

"Grandpa Hikaru will be here soon, too," Demora reminded her son.

"Scotty and Peter are coming too, right?" Bones checked.

"Aye," Jim confirmed in his best mimicry of the engineer's accent.

"Passable," Carol critiqued. Jim stuck out his bottom lip in a mock-pout.

Sierra poked him in the stomach. "Story," she demanded.

Jim chuckled. "I see someone having a future in the command track."

The younger twin – technically by a day, but really only by ten minutes, as she had been born at 0005 and Emma at 2355 – found no amusement in Jim's comment. "Story," she repeated.

"All right, all right, calm down Captain Kirk, Daddy's going back to the story."

-LLAP-

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise,**_ **fleeing P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

Spock bent over his station, reviewing scans of the asteroid belt.

An irate southern accent sliced through his concentration. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind?" McCoy demanded.

"Jim would have concocted a plan no less creative," Spock replied calmly. He had been expecting this tirade from the moment he formulated the plan.

McCoy set his jaw, not to be deterred. "You've concocted a plan based off a boy using rocks and a slingshot!"

"The technology may be severely outdated, but the principle is still highly applicable."

"You want to chuck _rocks_ at a ship our _torpedoes_ can barely touch," McCoy shot back, gesturing dramatically out the viewscreen.

"The plan is slightly more complicated than that, Doctor."

Finally, Spock found in the scans what he was looking for. "Mr. Sulu, please begin heading for the coordinates I am sending to your station. Take a roundabout route."

"Yes, sir."

McCoy was shaking his head. "This is crazy," he muttered to himself, beginning to pace across the bridge. Then confusion flickered across his face, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned back to Spock. "Wait, you've read the Bible?"

Spock continued to sift through data as he answered. "Not as of yet, no. My mother read that particular story to me when I first began to understand I was different."

"The discrimination was Goliath," Nyota murmured.

"That was the message she wished to convey, yes," Spock confirmed, meeting her gaze for a moment. Then he straightened up and returned to stand beside the captain's chair.

"How effective is this plan actually gonna be?" McCoy inquired. His opinion on the plan's insanity still showed in his concerned hazel eyes, but his tone had shifted to one of reluctant acceptance.

"We will have to deplete their shields before, as you say, chucking the rock at the Gorn, but the asteroids here contain trace amounts of uranium-235. The coordinates I sent to Mr. Sulu are those of one with enough uranium to do significant damage, but the radiation from the explosion should be at nonlethal levels. If it impacts with the correct area of the ship, they will be crippled and unable to follow us back to the planet."

McCoy crossed his arms, shooting a concerned glance out the viewscreen. "Didn't work so well last time we tried to deplete their shields."

"That is a problem," Spock admitted.

"Could we detonate some of the asteroids near their ship?" Nyota suggested. "Maybe it would trick them into boosting their shields on that side, and we then attack from the opposite side."

Spock nodded thoughtfully. "An excellent idea, Lieutenant." He pressed the comm. button. "Mr. Scott, can you configure a torpedo for remote control and detonation?"

" _Aye, laddie, it'd take only a minute."_

"Please do so."

He looked at McCoy, his gaze unfocused, his arms crossed tightly. "Doctor, I know you would rather stay here, but perhaps you would be safer in the medical bay."

Surprisingly, the doctor did not argue – perhaps because of his concern for Chekov. "All right," he acquiesced, making his way to the turbolift. "But expect me back the second you stop shaking the ship around."

"Acknowledged."

"Tell Pavel I'll be there as soon as I can," Sulu called. McCoy gave a thumbs-up to show he'd heard, just as the turbolift doors closed in front of him.

" _Scott to bridge. Yer torpedo's ready, sir. I'll rig up a few extras."_

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Lieutenant Stark," he said, addressing the Andorian who sat at Chekov's station, "fire at your discretion."

"Yes, sir."

As he took a moment to confer with Sulu about positioning and firing strategies, Spock turned to Nyota.

"Open a shipwide channel, Lieutenant."

Nyota obeyed quickly. "Open, sir."

"Crew of the _Enterprise_ , prepare for imminent proximity detonation."

-LLAP-

 **Some forest, P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.**

All of Jim's pain and exhaustion vanished in an instant. He dashed forward, searching for the seams between leaves, but they were ridged by skin-shredding thorns.

"Carol, are you ok?" he demanded.

"For now," she gasped. "But- Jim, I think this plant is carnivorous."

 _Is_ everything _on this planet trying to kill us?_

"What?"

"There's a liquid- I think it's digestive- definitely acidic- Jim, _get me out of here._ "

Jim had heard panic before. He'd heard screams of terror and agony come from the mouths of strangers, enemies, people he was supposed to protect, people he loved, himself. He'd felt guilt and desperation and terror explode within him as a result, the screams he hadn't stopped still haunting him to this day. He'd heard the moans of the dying, their final words rasped out of uncooperative bodies, and forced himself to attend to their final wishes or lie and say everything would be fine. He'd been alone, all hope gone, expecting to never see another sunrise, waiting for death.

But never had his heart pounded so hard, his adrenaline surged so high, his terror frozen him so severely. And she didn't even sound that panicked. Yet.

Jim tried to grab a fistful of plant, but it had gone rigid. He reached for his holster, but his fingers grasped only thin air.

"Damn it," he hissed. _We must've forgotten it when the unicorn attacked._

"What?" Carol snapped, her voice breathy and high-pitched.

"Nothing," he answered quickly – too quickly.

"Jim, I'm not an idiot."

"No, no you're not," Jim agreed. "Can you get to your phaser?"

The leaf pushed outwards slightly around where Carol's hip would be, and its response was to coil tighter. "Can't you get yours?" she gasped.

How to phrase this without placing the blame on her... "Er-"

"No," she protested before he could respond. "I left it, didn't I? I-"

"You were distracted; it happens," Jim cut her off quickly. "When you moved, did the plant-"

"Didn't like it. Jim, please, it's-"

"I'm working on it, I'm working," he assured her, staring at the plant. But as he let silence fall, he could hear her breathing getting faster and louder, hitching as if she held back sobs. And he couldn't have that, not the way every sound fractured his heart into a million glistening shards.

"Tell me a story."

"W-what?" Carol asked in surprise.

"British accents are good for thinking." _Mine, anyway._ "Talk."

"W-well, there's not much to tell."

Jim cocked his head, scrutinizing the roots. They were slightly exposed where they connected to the plant, almost blending in with the grass, but a pale green tint gave them away. "Is the acid green?"

"I think so… But I only have the light of my tricorder. Which, by the way, is _very close to being swallowed by acid,_ " Carol answered. "Why?"

"Nothing," Jim answered. _Don't want to get her hopes up._

"James Tiberius Kirk, stop lying to the woman stuck inside a plant."

Jim spun around, looking for something sharp. "You might have your fancy PhD, Doctor, but you can't give me orders, Lieutenant Commander."

"As a posh Brit, I _will_ give you orders, Iowan farmboy."

"Iowan farmboy who's saved planets," Jim shot back, playing up his rather faint Iowan accent. "And is currently _your_ only hope of escape."

"I'll take the… the killunicorn instead."

Finally, he found a suitably pointy stick; one end even had a few little thorns. He snatched it up, ignoring the stings as jagged edges cut his palm, and knelt by the plant, raising it up to stab one exposed root.

"Seriously? Killunicorn?" he exclaimed.

As she started to gasp out a response, he brought the stick down with as much force as he could muster.

It hit home.

Droplets of acid exploded from the root, splattering all over him. He gritted his teeth against a scream as the impact reverberated through his injured arm, instead turning to stab a second root.

The entire plant shuddered.

And contracted.

And didn't stop tightening.

 _Crap._

Carol screamed.

-LLAP-

Bare skin burning.

Unbearable squeezing. Always tightening.

Foul liquid reaching for her face. The stench filling her nose. Her head tilted back as far as it could go.

Straining for the phaser. Pushing against the tightness. Fingertips brushing metal just out of reach.

Pitch black.

Hope fading.

 _I'm sorry, Jim._

-LLAP-

 _"Jim!"_

 _Jim whipped his head up, just in time to see Khan knock Scotty aside. Before he could react, Khan flung himself at the captain, slamming him into the ground. Jim lashed out, but Khan effortlessly blocked, punching Jim's face before driving his knee into his ribcage and throwing him across the bridge. He skidded across the floor._

 _"Listen- wait, please-"_

 _He tried to get up, tried to get to Carol, but Khan shoved her to the ground and stomped on her leg with an echoing_ crunch _._

 _Carol screamed._

 _Jim just laid on the floor, his abused body refusing to obey his brain's commands, as Khan crushed Marcus's head – and Carol's heart along with it._

Not again. He wouldn't fail her again.

 _This stupid flower_ _would not take her from him._

Jim threw caution to the wind and almost grabbed the thorn-lined edge, but at the last second reached up and snagged the pointed top of a leaf. It bent beneath his grip, just enough for Jim to secure his grip and _pull_. Agony burned in his arm, but he dug his heels in and tugged with every ounce of adrenaline he had.

Sapphire phaser fire burst through the black spots swarming his vision. With a violent shudder, the plant sprang open. One powerful leaf slammed Jim against the ground, mostly protecting him from a flood of acid. A _thud_ announced Carol's collapse.

Jim scrambled out from under the leaf, shaky with relief when he saw her already trying to sit up. Her eyes were huge, her breath coming in rapid gasps, everything from her neck down covered in a layer of green slime, but she was alive.

"Get in the stream," he advised, stumbling to his feet. More than a little shaky, she copied him; wary of what that slime would do to his open cuts, Jim didn't physically help her, ignoring every instinct to do so.

The water was ice cold, but Carol sighed in relief as it washed away the slime and cooled her acid burns – relatively minor, and her uniform and boots remained almost completely intact. Must've been a slow-acting acid unadapted to clothing. Lucky for them. Jim didn't know what he would have done if…

Shaking off the thought, he focused on peeling away the makeshift bandage around his arm. Acid-splattered as it now was, he didn't trust it to go on protecting his wound. Still, he winced upon seeing the deep gash slicing across his forearm. It wouldn't take long for infection to set in, exposed as it was.

Carol suddenly grabbed his hand, her arm trembling enough to make his arm shake, her gaze locked on his wound, the trickles of fresh blood oozing from it. "You shouldn't have hurt yourself more."

He twisted his hand to hold and steady hers. "And you shouldn't have jumped on the unicorn."

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "But I've always wanted to ride a unicorn. And I looked pretty ace doing it, didn't I?"

"You did indeed. And I've always wanted to fight a plant. Wishes granted, then."

Even as she tried to laugh, tears slipped from her eyes. She tugged him towards her, burying her face in his chest, her other arm wrapping around him and clutching a fistful of shirt. Eventually they realized they had to get out of the river, but still Jim held her, and she held him right back. In tune with each other, their heartbeats slowed and they sank to the ground, their worlds shrinking to encompass only the person they held.

For a little while, they just laid there, curled up together in a bright forest, warmed by each other, surrounded by birdsong.


End file.
